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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 






THE 

SUNNY 

SOUTHLAND 

AND OTHER POEMS 


W. H. SCHULZ 


CONTEMPORARY POETS (16) 




THE 

SUNNY 

SOUTHLAND 

AND OTHER POEMS 



DORRANCE& COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 


c nMP*-o, 




COPYRIGHT 1924 
DORRANCE & CO INC 


75 3S3? 

.CV/i. 5* 




* . 


MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


NOV 20 1924 

©CIA 80790 " 

'w* I 


To 

My Wife and My Children 




CONTENTS 


Education . 11 

The Greater Sun . 12 

The Bougainvillea . 13 

The Marshes’ Rim . 15 

First Day at School . 16 

Joyful Christmas . 18 

Then Sorrow Not . 19 

Kindred of the Clod .21 

My Dear Killdee . 22 

Morning in the Marshes .24 

Memorial Flowers .25 

The Great Divide . 27 

Sympathy .28 

Flee the Flames .29 

The Caloosahatchee River . 30 

The Panama . 31 

Diagraming .. *.. 33 

The Wind That Bloweth . 34 

The True Heart . 35 

Life’s Flowers .36 

Lake Martha . 38 

The Sphinx and the Chimera . 39 

A Message . 42 

Songs of Gladness .43 

Rosa Montana .44 

The Old Orange Orchard .45 

The School Spring . 47 






























EDUCATION 

Simplify our education 
To the things that count; 

Clean the slate, wipe out the figures 
Of that meaningless amount! 

Wipe it out—the empty lingo 
That has kept men in the dark; 

Do away with all the rubbish 
That obscures the shining mark! 

Simplify our education, 

Make it stronger in effect; 

Build on solid fundamentals, 
Thorough-going and correct; 

Leave no stone unturned for fitness— 
There must be no idle show; 

For no knowledge grows to power 
That is unordained to grow! 

Trust to luck and lies no longer, 

We are in a world of law; 
Disobedience means destruction, 
Nature tolerates no flaw. 

11 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 

Our achievements come from knowledge 
That uplifts the living soul; 

Skill and knowledge, they are power, 
Dominant in all control! 

But all this is not sufficient— 

Better, better must we build; 

What’s to us, veneer and gilding, 

If not all with gold is filled? 

Betterment must be our banner, 

And of all, the regnant rule, 

In the home, and in our country, 
Topmost, foremost in the school! 

Even this is not sufficient— 

Nobler must our structure be; 

For without true hearts and loving, 
What would be eternity? 

Love must be the law of living, 

And of every law the rule; 

For as long as lasts existence 
Life’s of life the training school! 


THE GREATER SUN 

Ah, the air is full of music, 

Sound and sense are one; 
Whirling goes the world in rhythm, 
Whirling ’round the sun. 

As you stand in solemn silence 


AND OTHER POEMS 


13 


At the noon of night, 

You enjoy the hushing cadence, 
Trembling with delight. 

As you read the starry heavens, 

You with keener ears 
Through your soul discern the blissful 
Music of the spheres. 

There’s a bond through all creation, 
Reaching all the suns; 

There’s no bar to set a limit 
Where life’s river runs. 

Ah, the air is full of music, 

Sound and sense are one; 

Steadfast moves the soul in rhythm 
To a greater sun. 

Lord of earth and heaven, ever, 

When Thy will is done, 

Harmony controls creation*— 

Heaven has begun! 


THE BOUGAINVILLEA 

Beautiful bougainvillea, 

Graceful, contented and calm, 
Smilingly, pleasingly pretty, 
Swung on the crown of a palm; 
Flying your streamers of purple 
Over long fronds of gay green, 


14 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


Bounding on pinnated branches, 
Nodding and waving between. 

Fairer your purple is showing, 

Finer your beauty is growing 
Far beyond measures of knowing— 
Joyously gladd’ning the scene. 

Beautiful bougainvillea, 

Wandering over the wall, 

Over the tip of the tree-top, 

Nothing, O nothing’s too tall! 
Climbing up over the lattice, 
Charmingly free and at ease, 

In a perpetual flutter 
On the Floridian breeze. 

For you swing freely in vining, 
Arbors, verandas entwining, 

Cluster with clusters combining— 
Fashioned a picture to please. 

Beautiful bougainvillea, 

Long is your life and your bloom, 
Surely and truly defying, 

You are denying death’s doom; 
Youthful and gay you are smiling, 
Ceaselessly pleasing the eye; 

Lifting the shadows of sadness 
That on the broken heart lie. 
Spreading your soothing of rest 
Over the wounds of the breast, 
Knowing ’tis all for the best— 
When to pure beauty you tie. 


AND OTHER POEMS 
THE MARSHES’ RIM 


15 


Olden, olden lures exulting, 

Draw me onward to the sedge 

Of the emerald main of marshes, 
Beating on the jungle’s edge! 

Here’s the line that lies dividing 
Uplands from the mystic moor; 

Here’s the zone that binds the body 
Of this broad and flat contour. 

In this belted maze of verdure 
Stand the trees on solid land; 

With their feet in ooze and water,— 
Underneath, in marly sand. 

O those ancient lures exalted, 

Draw me to the marshes’ rim; 

Where within the jungle’s tangle 
Soothing sleeps the twilight dim. 

Where the trees o’erhung with banners 
Of the wild-wood muscadine, 

Throw their dark and inky shadows 
O’er the yellow jessamine. 

O the beauty and the wonder! 

O the joy beyond compare! 

Where the bay and grand magnolia 
Shed their fragrance on the air. 

In the marshes and the jungle 
Man can win the spoils of strife; 

There’s the line that lies dividing 
Want from plenty in this life. 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 

Through these circled walls of verdure, 
Man must dig him trench by trench, 

Till he’s reached the outer edges 
Of the upland’s nearest bench. 

In the water’s gravitation, 

There can be no one-man’s job; 

Men must learn to work together, 

And each heart with heart must throb! 

Time is near—we need the marshes, 

For the people need the food; 

Time is here, we must have plenty 
That depends on no man’s mood. 

Herein comes the new tomorrow, 
Waiting at the marshes’ edge; 

Herein is the new beginning, 

Forward!—following the dredge! 

When the dreamer takes to thinking, 
Then the dream’s a dream no more; 

There shall be an hundred Hollands 
Where we saw not one before. 


FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL 

There I went in gray November, 

To the schoolhouse on the hill; 
Winds were blowing, dead leaves sowing, 
And the air was crisp and chill; 

In my hand, the new, green primer, 


AND OTHER POEMS 


17 


Prefaced by the alphabet, 

Which I came to learn, but borrowed, 
Till I could repay the debt. 

Good George Bonham, he had told me 
All their names from A to Z; 

For the teacher, she might scold me 
If I knew not A from B. 

So I studied, I can tell you! 

Said them over—through and through; 

But when I at last recited, 

Muddled U and double-U. 

Then I thought I’d get a scolding, 

But was patted on my back; 

Much relieved, but still beholding 
Those same letters, big and black. 

Much of this is now forgotten— 

Some are gone that I have met; 

But for that one act of kindness, 

I can see my teacher yet. 

Well, I learned one useful lesson 
That first day I went to school; 

That to study at the outset 
Makes one master of the tool. 

I have slipped and I have floundered, 
But I’ve never lost the clew 

That I found when I untangled 
That strange U from double-U. 


18 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 
JOYFUL CHRISTMAS 


Once again 'tis joyful Christmas, 

Christ is at the door; 

Bid Him welcome, bid Him enter, 

Keep Him evermore. 

Jacob's star is in the heavens, 

Shining clear and bright; 

Sister stars with joy are beaming 
Through the holy night. 

David's harp again is sounding 
“Honor to the King;'' 

Heavenly hosts on high, proclaiming, 
Their hosannas sing. 

Christ has come to heal the nations, 

So that war may cease; 

Follow Him, who are His children, 

He's the Prince of Peace. 

“Peace on earth” ring on forever, 

O'er and o’er again; 

“Glory, glory in the highest 
And good will to men.” 

Think and dream no more that Christmas 
Comes but once a year; 

For to them who have His spirit, 

He is always here. 

Hear, O hear the heavenly voices 
Ringing through the sky; 

Read the glories of the heavens— 

Let them prophesy. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


19 


Joy to all the world, forever, 

For the time is near 

When the Lord of all creation, 

Ever shall be here. 

Then let all His faithful children 
Heavenly praises sing; 

“Glory, glory in the highest, 

Glory to the King!” 

Light of all the world, forever, 

Thou in us abide; 

Thou art more to us than compass, 
Thou art more than guide. 

Thou hast come from highest heaven, 
Healing in Thy hand; 

And Thy faithful shepherds carry 
It to every land. 

So shall forward moving, ever, 
What each Christmas brings; 

Bring to man the loving spirit 
Of the King of Kings. 


THEN SORROW NOT 

How brightly beam 
The smiles of love; 
For bent o’er all 
Is God above! 

The blazing bloom, 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 

The flowery field 
Is but a part 

Of Him revealed. 

Your silver song, 

O joyous bird, 

A message sweet 
From Him is heard. 
The fountain’s flow 
That bubbles bright, 

Is Providence 
For us in sight. 

In day or night, 

In joy or gloom, 
There’s always light, 
There’s always bloom; 
The bud, the rose, 

Our joys so sweet, 

By Him alone 
Are made complete. 

O hark! the voice 
Of Him you hear; 

It whispers love, 

He holds you near. 
Then sorrow not, 

Rejoice! Rejoice! 

That you have heard 
Your Father’s voice! 


AND OTHER POEMS 
KINDRED OF THE CLOD 


21 


Now above the eastern heights 
Fading die the starry lights; 

Now the palmate gleams of red 
Through the blooming sky are shed. 
Now the primal morning ray 
Wakes to life the smiling day; 

And the vernal glitt’ring green 
In its glory may be seen. 

Still, the fragrant morning balm 
Spreads o’er all a quiet calm; 

And the dew upon the grass 
Shines like silver as you pass. 

Still the bluish vapors rise, 

Layering the vaulted skies; 

While the matchless mocking bird 
In her melody is heard. 

There is music everywhere 
When the smile of spring is there; 

Hear the music of the rill 
Dancing down the stony hill. 

Hear the mellow, fluting breeze 
Whistling through the green-robed trees; 
And the sweetly cooing dove 
As she sings her song of love. 

There is brotherhood and strife 
Over-plenty in this life; 

Watch the shadows as they pass 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 

O’er the insects in the grass. 

Deeper look into these mats, 

Notice nature’s acrobats— 

Little mites that have a will 
Welded to an inborn skill. 

Little kindred of the clod, 

Teeming billions of the sod; 

Little does your brother know 
Of the life you lead below. 

Little cricket, ant and bee, 

Do you wonder, ‘‘Who are we?” 

Do you ever weep and sigh, 

When the pangs of pain run high? 

Man must learn his square of ground, 
Learn the life that there is found; 
Count the nameless billions there 
In the water, earth and air. 

Numbers such as these appall, 

Yet you have not counted all. 

Count no more in numbers then— 
They’re too large for little men! 


MY DEAR KILLDEE 

What in the world is the matter? 
Where in the world can she be? 
Why are you running so swiftly, 
My dear Killdee? 


AND OTHER POEMS 


23 


Down by the slow flowing river, 
Down in the meadow is she, 
Hovering over her nestlings— 

Happy as happy can be, 

Piping her message to thee. 

My dear Killdee! 

My dear Killdee! 

Are you not proud as she answers— 
Sweetly replying to thee— 

Happy that she is a mother, 

My dear Killdee? 

Ah, it’s no guess you are happy, 
Telling your story to me; 

Keep at your running and calling, 
Happy as happy can be, 

Piping your message to me. 

My dear Killdee! 

My dear Killdee! 

Keep at your running and calling, 
Keep at your singing in glee, 

Never were days any brighter. 

My dear Killdee!— 

Down by the slow flowing river, 
Down in the meadow is he, 

Calling and calling forever, 

Happy as happy can be, 

Piping his message to me. 

My dear Killdee! 

My dear Killdee! 


24 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


MORNING IN THE MARSHES 

When it’s morning in the marshes 
And the fog is rising high, 

Then the wide-spread stratus gather 
Like companions in the sky. 

Many a morning I’ve been gladdened, 
As the bluish vapors rose 
From the splendid spikes of orchids, 
Waking from their night’s repose; 
While the yellow cannas’ torches 
Bowed before the rising sun, 

And the lark with lilting lyrics 
Sang into the day begun. 

O the mornings in the marshes!— 
Sweet with flowers and with song, 
Shadows of the beauty coming, 

That has lingered, O, so long! 

Soon there’ll be a million gardens 
Where were water-grass and wood; 
Soon there’ll be a thousand orchards 
Where the beaming bay-heads stood. 
Soon will come the armies marching, 
And the hunger cry will cease; 

For with steady, boundless plenty 
Comes the happiness of peace. 

Where now grows the aromatic, 

Racy, wildwood scuppernong, 

Grapes of rare and noble lineage 
Soon will claim the praise of song. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


25 


Where now grows the native canna, 
Esculentums then will grow; 

Where now grows the waxy myrtle, 
Rhodomyrtus’ rose will glow. 

There will be fair trees in fruiting,— 
Life sustaining, one and all; 

As they were in Eden’s Garden, 

Ere the advent of the Fall. 

Now the morning fogs have risen, 

And the sun is hanging high; 

Now the cumulus is growing 
Into mountains in the sky, 

Now the clouds will pour in weeping 
Tears of joy upon the grass, 

For they sense a change is coming 
As the ancient orders pass. 

They were watering the future, 

Through an hundred thousand years; 

Long ago God’s germs were nurtured— 
Now the golden fruit appears! 


MEMORIAL FLOWERS 

Martyrs of a cause, 

Rest in honor and in peace! 
Solemnly we pause, 

For you bade the battle cease; 
So again the human breast 
Breathes relieved and unoppressed! 


26 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


Flowers of the earth, 

In your sweetest fragrance blown, 
Bloom for Freedom’s birth. 

For these known, and those unknown— 
Greater than the laurel’s crown, 

Ever speaks the deed’s renown! 

Columns cut from stone 
Soon will mark each place 
Where lie blood and bone, 

Given for the human race; 

And the swiftly passing years 
Will be moist with grateful tears! 

Sacred are the tombs, 

When affection lingers near, 

When a nation comes 

Weeping, each recurring year 
O’er each flower-covered mound, 

Where the earth is hallowed ground. 

Earthward, over clouds, 

Bend the angels on this day, 

Over silent crowds 

Gathering the bloom of May, 

For these dear and hallowed spots 
That are sacred to our thoughts! 

Thoughtful then, we go, 

Not for weary miles to roam, 

But to where we know 

Loving hearts await at home; 

There to consecrate anew 
All we are to what is true! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


27 


THE GREAT DIVIDE 

Which way do I face 
In God’s boundless space? 

Forward I shall go, 

Swifter far, I know— 

Higher, higher, up to Thee, 

Loving light which shines for me. 

How shall I unfold, 

Powers that I hold 
In my ego deep 
Lying there asleep, 

Till by changes wrought and bought 
I attain to Thine own thought? 

Only love can guide 
O’er the Great Divide 
Lying in between, 

Seeing and unseen; 

Love is then my inner sight, 

Rends the veil which hides the light. 

But of love is born 
Faith, that fears no scorn, 

Turning earth to heaven 
By its spirit leaven; 

Which is hidden in the thought 
That the Son of Man has brought. 


28 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


SYMPATHY 

Sympathy is never wasted— 

Always does its part; 

Soon or late it lifts a sorrow 
From a saddened heart; 

Soon or late it smooths the wrinkles 
From a careworn brow; 

Soon or late it stills the anguish 
That is painful now. 

Give to all your words of kindness 
And your loving smile; 

For we’re here but once—and only 
For a little while. 

Sympathize with those who suffer, 
And who sorrows know; 

Share alike with them their burdens, 
Share with them their woe. 

Who’s Samaritan and healer, 

When reward is sought: 

Who is brother, who is sister, 

If we know them not? 

Give to all your sweet compassion, 
And your loving smile; 

For we’re here but once—and only 
For a little while. 


AND OTHER POEMS 
FLEE THE FLAMES 


29 


Never were men any wiser 

Than in their knowing they knew; 
Never were men any better 
Than in their doing they do; 

Though the fair word may be thrilling, 
Though the weak flesh may be willing, 
Demons in thought do their killing 
While they are smiling at you. 

Often the world is enchanted, 

By a sad sweetness of song; 

Often mad music entrancing 
Sinketh the soul into wrong; 

Art is the artist elated, 

Passion with passion is mated— 

Never, O never is sated 

When for the evil we long. 

Better, far better, like Joseph, 

Fleeing the beckoning flame; 

Better, far better, avoiding 
Even the shadow of shame; 

Stand on your God-given power, 

Never, O never to cower, 

Like to a thorn-guarded flower, 
Shielding, defending your name. 


30 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


THE CALOOSAHATCHEE RIVER 

Calm Caloosahatchee River, 

Gently flow along; 

Fanned by flitting, fragrant breezes, 
Sing your summer song; 

Gliding under tall palmettos, 

And sweet blooming bays; 

In your bosom’s bright mirages 
Slumber through the days. 

Near your banks the piaropus 
With their plumes of blue, 

Rising from your quiet waters, 

Nod their heads to you. 

Calm Caloosahatchee River, 

Gently, softly, creep 

Down your dream-enchanted valley, 
In the Gulf to sleep; 

Gliding through your dreamy forests 
Of the palm and pine; 

Overhung with dendropogon 
And the smilax vine. 

Let the lark sing sweet and gaily, 

As you drift along; 

Fanned by gently blowing breezes, 
Sing your summer song. 


Calm Caloosahatchee River, 

Gently go to sea; 

You shall go where all are going,— 


AND OTHER POEMS 


31 


Home at last to be. 

On your banks in pose prophetic 
Stands the egret white; 
Plumes of purity are gleaming 
In the sunset light. 

Shining in your limpid waters 
Is a tranquil face; 

Mirrored in your azure bosom 
Are the depths of space. 


THE PANAMA 

Here in ancient Suez 
Greets the East the West; 

Here rules mighty England 
At her own behest. 

Here sail ships for India, 

And far-off Cathay; 

Here sail ships from Nippon 
Up to Dublin Bay. 

Here in ancient Suez 

Meets the East and West; 

Here the pride of England 
Swells each English breast! 

Forward moves our earth-star, 
Curving around the sun; 

We are at the threshold 
Of an age begun. 

Westward move the heavens, 


32 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


Westward moves the tide; 

Strangely we are moving, 
This no veil can hide. 

All is going, going,— 

Eaten down with rust; 

Babylon and Carthage 
Slumber in the dust! 

Drake and De Balboa, 
Knowing what they saw, 

Viewed the grand Pacific— 
But not Panama. 

Panama is rising, 

Binding shore to shore; 

For she is the threshold 
Of the new-age door. 

With her traffic open, 

Came the new-age birth; 

They who guide this traffic, 
They will guide the earth! 

Here the world is modern— 
Pan-American; 

Here the democratic 
Rule shall be the plan. 

Here shall cross the cordage 
Made of iron strands, 

That will tie together 
Democratic lands. 

When the work’s completed, 
Then a smiling sun 

Will be shining ever 
On a Race that’s one! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


33 


DIAGRAMMING 

Only one Miltonian sentence 

Much compounded and complexed, 
That was William’s language lesson, 
Given in his grammar’s text; 

And the task was diagramming— 
Putting each word in a pen, 

Showing its exact syntaxis 
By the crayon, to our ken. 

Wonderful were those mechanics 
Of a balanced diagram, 

With their oblongs and ellipses 
Linked into one monogram; 

Till that one Miltonian sentence 
Covering thirty yards of space, 
Over-stepped the recitation 
In the time it took to trace. 

Wonder not there was revulsion 
At a good thing over-done; 

All because of what is evil— 

Of the good they would have none. 
Diagramming was discarded, 

All because smart folk forgot 
That all great things are quite simple 
When you find the final thought. 

Diagrams are plans of building, 

So that he who will may scan, 

When at first he is beginning 


34 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


To unravel logic’s plan. 

For what is the use of reading 
If you gather not the thought? 
What we need is understanding— 
Not the plexus of a plot. 


THE WIND THAT BLOWETH 

Lo, the wind that bloweth 
On the bending flame! 

Yet there’s no one knoweth 
Whence that fair wind came! 

Ah, the wind that worketh 
What no man can name; 

Therein’s One who lurketh, 
Evermore the same! 

There’s a faith that knoweth, 
When it hears the sound 

Of the wind that goeth 
Ever round and round; 

Where the spirit soweth 
Living, sacred seed, 

There the re-born groweth 
Into life indeed! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


35 


Yea, the wind that bloweth 
On the living flame, 

Lights the torch that showeth 
Whence the spirit came. 


THE TRUE HEART 

Dare you lead and face your brothers, 
Where the true heart stays? 

Dare you do to friends and others, 

As the true heart prays? 

For in doing is the mission, 

Boundless in its scope; 

If we practise what we’re preaching, 
That is man’s great hope. 

Give us men whose hearts are honest, 
Souls of good intent; 

Such are never always-vanquished, 

Such are not misspent. 

Such ascend the very highest, 

Leaving all behind; 

Leaving and again retrieving, 

In the end they find. 

Thus shall fare the meek and lowly, 
True within and out; 

Thus shall fare the poor in spirit, 

For they have no doubt. 

In this struggle none are vanquished, 


36 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


All return again; 

For the fruit of their endeavor 
Makes them stronger men. 

Shall the day-star be eclipsed 
Near the end of day? 

Then shall moonlight be as twilight, 
Turning into gray. 

But the truly meek and lowly 
Light that goes not out, 

And the holy, poor in spirit, 

They are still devout. 

For they lead and face their brothers 
Where the true heart stays; 

For they do to friends and others 
As the true heart prays. 


LIFE’S FLOWERS 

Gather the flowers of springtime, 
When they so fragrantly blow; 
Gather the flowers of springtime, 
When they’re with beauty aglow: 
Soon when the rains are descending, 
Down to the earth they’ll be bending, 
For to the earth they are tending, 

As to their mother they go. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


37 


Gather the flowers of summer, 

Ere that the petals shall fly; 
Gather the flowers of summer, 

Ere they are drooping to die: 
Gather, O gather them glowing, 

In their young beauty’s fine showing; 
Gather them, gratefully knowing, 
Whither they’re going and why. 

Gather the flowers of autumn, 

For there are only a few; 

Gather the flowers of autumn— 
They are the only that grew; 
Fewer and fewer in number, 

Sadness, no sadness encumber 
As they are going to slumber, 
Covered with comforting dew. 

Gather the flowers, Life’s flowers,— 
They are the love that is true; 
Gather the flowers, Life’s flowers,— 
They are the virtue in you: 

Gather and give them to others, 
Fathers in feeling, and mothers, 
Sisters in dealing, and brothers. 
Yours in the good that they do. 


38 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


LAKE MARTHA 

When the moon at full is shining 
From her path in space, 

Gleaming like to burnished silver 
Gloweth Martha’s face. 

In the shadows of her shoreline, 

In recesses deep, 

Fireflies, like brilliants flashing, 

Never go to sleep. 

In her bosom deep reposing, 

Through the course of night, 

She has caught, complete, the vision 
Of the orbs of light. 

Through the marshes Martha wanders, 
During summer rains; 

Overflowing all with plenty, 

Giving of her gains. 

Canes and cannas bid her welcome, 
And the frogs rejoice 
Like a thousand-anvil chorus, 

Unified in voice. 

Then the alligator journeys 
Farther up the bay, 

Where the young brood loves to linger 
At the noon of day. 

When the summer rains are over 
Martha wanders back; 

Soon the goldenrod and aster 
Cover up her track. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


39 


Fields are flush with coins of yellow, 
More than can be told:— 

Martha’s reaping now her harvest, 
Nature’s floral gold. 

Wonder not at Martha’s smiling, 

She is not yet done— 

Now the oranges are glowing 
In the winter’s sun! 


THE SPHINX AND THE CHIMERA 

(To Sargent’s Picture) 

Ah, the sleepy Sphinx is dreaming, 

Light flits o’er her face; 

Can it be that she is smiling— 

Feeble though the trace? 

Looking upward to the heavens, 

Age on age she sleeps; 

In her breast there is a secret 
Cleverly she keeps. 

But no secret keeps forever, 

Tight though be the grip; 

When the heart of stone is melted, 
Then unlocks the lip. 

All electrons find their ions, 

Atoms, atoms seek; 

Quivering, the Sphinx awakens 


40 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


And begins to speak: 

“What! Have I so long been dreaming? 
Do I see a light? 

Can I longer keep my secret 
Hidden in the night? 

What are you, transcendent vision, 

Snowy white in blue? 

Can it be, my dear Chimera, 

Nothing hides from you?” 

“Ancient Sphinx, and olden riddle 
Of the universe, 

See the day-star slowly rising, 

Darkness to disperse. 

From that star I bring a challenge 
You cannot withstand; 

In it is no dare to threaten, 

But a self-command. 

You yourself must solve the riddle— 

I come not to beg; 

Which came first in God’s creation, 
Whether bird or egg?” 

“You shall know, my dear Chimera, 

Almost I forgot; 

It is such a simple question, 

Childish—is it not? 

Long ago there was the plasma, 

Builded in a cell; 

But the cell became an ovum, 

Do I need to tell? 

Egg and something—egg and something— 


AND OTHER POEMS 


41 


Does it sound absurd? 

Round and round in later ages, 

From an egg a bird. 

“Now farewell, my dear Chimera, 

I must cease to talk; 

Let me dream—my life is dreaming, 
For I cannot walk. 

Charming child and sweet affection, 

Go not hence, deceived; 

I have answered—-and most truly, 

Now I feel relieved. 

This is not the vital riddle, 

Answer it who can! 

I alone can tell the meaning 
That there is to man!” 

Now again the Sphinx is dreaming, 
Knowing looks her face; 

Afterthought and forethought printed— 
Character to trace. 

Still she looks up to the heavens, 

As she dreams and sleeps; 

In her breast is still the secret, 

Which she holds and keeps. 

Will her secret sleep forever, 

Tightly in her grip? 

Will her heart of stone, unmelted, 
Always lock her lip? 


42 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


A MESSAGE 

Poem after poem 
Which the brave bard brings, 

Opens up the future 
To a world of things. 

Tell him not ’tis useless 
That he wields his art, 

When the notes he’s singing 
Come from out his heart. 

In this generation 
There’s a thirst for song 

If it has a message 
That is clear and strong. 

Poets come when needed 
As they did of old; 

In their words prophetic 
Wholesome truths are told. 

While the seer is singing, 

Join we in his song; 

When the spirit moves him, 

It will move the throng. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


43 


SONGS OF GLADNESS 

Cheer the world with songs of gladness— 
Not the songs of sorrow; 

If you have a tale of sadness, 

Sing it some tomorrow; 

Hoping that the day in question 
Happiness will bring, 

When your heart’s desire and hoping 
Causes you to sing. 

Sing of happy things substantial, not of 
Castles in the air; 

For this too much soaring leadeth 
Ever to despair; 

Better far the life pacific, 

Where you safely sail 

Far away from any maelstrom, 

Where so many fail. 

Better sing of human virtue— 

Wisdom’s fruit of gold; 

Ah, there is a mine of diamonds, 

Values yet untold. 

Sing your songs of joy, rejoicing 
That the soul can sing; 

Every human heart will thank you, 

For the joy you bring. 


44 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


ROSA MONTANA* 

Rosa, sweet rosa montana, 

Cluster of pink on the green; 

Rosa, sweet rosa montana, 

You are of flowers the queen: 

All that fair charming possesses 
Shines in your rosy pink tresses, 
Veiling your clinging green dresses, 
So that but beauty is seen. 

Rosa, sweet rosa montana, 

Hiding old rock-piles and fences; 

Rosa, sweet rosa montana, 

Covering mankind’s offenses: 

Knowing there’s little in shaming, 
Less in abuse and defaming, 

But in pure beauty’s enframing, 
There is where kindness commences. 


Rosa, sweet rosa montana, 

Waving your branch in the breeze; 
Rosa, sweet rosa montana, 

Pennanting loaded-down trees: 
Useful, yet beauty maintaining, 
Pulses of passion restraining, 
Never a heart-throb profaning, 
Feeding your honey to bees. 


*Antigonon Leptopus or Pink Vine 


AND OTHER POEMS 


45 


Rosa, sweet rosa montana, 

Virtuous bloom of a vine; 

Rosa, sweet rosa montana, 

Long may your tenderness shine: 

It would be daring to doubt you, 
Living alone and without you, 
For there’s a something about you 
Speaking a language divine. 


THE OLD ORANGE ORCHARD 

O the grand old orange orchard, 
Where the hill is high and steep, 

Lying like a lure of Eden 
In between the lakes asleep; 

Where the whispers of the breezes 
From the forest-fence above, 

Sighing through the bended branches 
Speak in wooing tones of love! 

O those happy, joyful mornings, 
Ripened into hopeful days; 

Like the leaves upon the branches 
In the sun’s bright golden rays! 

They are now like mental pictures, 

In existence, all but gone; 

They have fled like suns and seasons, 
And the fruit they shone upon! 


46 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


So has passed the life of boyhood, 

Like a chain of happy days 

Strung on shining threads of silver 
Flung across my gladdened ways. 

Like a dash of fleeting fancy, 

Tangled in recurring thought,— 

All has fled, like flying shadows, 

Flying o’er this Eden spot! 

O the grand old orange orchard, 

In those joyful years of yore; 

It has blown its bloom of glory, 

And its place is known no more. 

How I yearned and gazed confiding 
Till the primal buds appeared; 

How I felt the fragrant flowers 
Growing to my heart endeared! 

Home I ran, most happy youngster, 

On my fairly flying feet; 

Brimming full of joy and gladness, 

Told the tale that seemed so sweet. 

Still my mind retells the story, 

Of the hopeful dreams it brought; 

Still my heart recounts the glory 
Of the helpful visions caught. 

O the grand old orange orchard 
Which I watched the summers through, 

As the heavy bearing branches 
Held the gold that brighter grew! 

Till at last the golden harvest 


AND OTHER POEMS 


47 


Brought of all the greatest joy; 
For I gleaned the greater gladness 
Of the man within the boy. 


THE SCHOOL SPRING 

What desire was at the bottom? 

No one yet pretends to know. 

Longer grew the lists in waiting, 
Longing for their turn to go 

Down the pathway to the valley, 

And from there supply to bring 

Of the oft-demanded water, 

From an ever-flowing spring. 

Ah, that spring so deep encaverned 
At the footing of the bluff; 

Once from it your lips had tasted, 

They could never taste enough; 

Rimmed with mosses and with lichens 
Was its frame of glowing green, 

And within that shining mirror 
Were our smiling faces seen. 

How we lingered round that fountain 
Down into its depth to look! 

There to watch the crusted caddis 
Write his name in Nature’s book. 

How we wondered at the crayfish 


48 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


Walking on so many legs, 

Making progress going backwards, 
Carrying her nest of eggs! 

But the wonder of all wonders 
Were the many little cones 
Where the tiny geysers bubbled 
From among the sand and stones! 
Leaping were the slender columns, 
Underneath their shields of sand 
Bringing from the pits beneath them— 
Water, watering the land! 

Round about in curves of glory 
Ever-varied verdure grew, 

Underneath the fragrant bowers, 

Which the happy song-birds drew. 

Was it not a rich oasis, 

Clustered in this magic ring, 

Drinking these refreshing waters 
From this ever-flowing spring? 

How we sighed, and sometimes muttered, 
When we heard the school-bell sound, 
With its silver song and jingle 
As it echoed far around. 

How we sighed, and often sputtered, 
Even though the birds did sing, 

For our sole delight of learning 
Seemed to lie around that spring. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


49 


CONSOLATION 

Cause of all life’s being, 

Cause of all good known; 

You’re my consolation, 
Triumphing alone! 

Lead me on and upward 
To the mountain’s crest, 

Where beyond conceivement 
Peace shall calm my breast! 

While the fogs below me 
Gather in a cloud, 

Let the winds be weavers 
Of the autumn’s shroud! 

I must hasten forward, 

For my course is planned; 

In the wind’s a purpose, 

In the storm’s a hand! 

What the clouds shall bring me, 
Whether rain or snow, 

No one needs to tell me, 

For I soon will know! 

But the snow, what is it? 
Whitened field and lane? 

When the sun swings higher 
It will melt again! 


50 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


Cause of all life’s being, 
Cause of all good known; 
You’re my consolation, 
Triumphing alone! 


WORDS OF CHEER 

Speak sweet words of cheer—we’re weary 
Of the words of woe; 

For of brightness there is plenty 
If that way we go. 

There’s too much of gloom and sadness 
Scattered far and wide; 

Let us seek the ways of gladness 
On the brighter side. 

Let us lose the words expressing 
Doubt and unbelief; 

Let us bury all the phrases 
Yielding pain and grief. 

Speak sweet words of cheer—the dreary 
Make us all too sad; 

There is always one oasis 
Where we may be glad. 

Let us sing and let us whistle— 

All is brighter then; 

It may take a little courage, 

We must still be men. 

Let us smile and laugh together 


AND OTHER POEMS 


51 


As we run our race; 

For the smile and laugh reflecting 
Flash from face to face. 


THE MOCKING BIRD 

Mocking bird, the air is ringing 
With your melodies so sweet; 

Senses thrilled to me are bringing 
Happiness that is complete. 

There’s no halt and hitching 
In your songs bewitching, 

Heart and soul enriching, 

As upon my ear they beat. 

Mocking bird, the flowers wilting, 

Lift their heads again and smile 
At the lofty lays you’re lilting, 

Free from sorrow and from guile. 

While your voice is stressing, 

Joy and love expressing, 

You bestow your blessing 
In pure songs that ne’er defile. 

Mocking bird, who can defeat you 
With your thousand thrilling notes? 

For where’er I chance to meet you, 

You steal charms from all birds’ throats. 
Which by your adapture, 


52 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


Captivate and capture, 

Transport and enrapture,— 

That, your artistry denotes. 

Mocking bird, your soul-songs winging 
Are the acme of all art, 

Ever now within me singing 
Melts your music in my heart. 

Into one resolving, 

All myself involving 
In your songs dissolving, 

Till my sorrows all depart. 

Mocking bird, your notes are thrilling, 
So that finer feelings start 
Sweet emotions to fulfilling, 

In my sorrow-saddened heart. 

Through my senses stealing, 

To my soul appealing, 

In ecstatic feeling, 

Such to me’s your charming art. 

Mocking bird, the Southland cheering 
With its sentiments so strong, 

Has no finer arts endearing, 

Than your mastery of song. 

Peerless panegyrics, 

Mocking all empirics, 

Sweetest are your lyrics 
That in dreams our joys prolong. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


53 


SO IS LIFE 

Up the hills of pleasure, 

On the roads to gain, 

Squandering our treasure, 
Harvest we life’s pain. 

Paler grow the roses, 

Soon their petals fall, 

And the day discloses 
That this is not all. 

Bending branches heavy 
Soon their fruits must doff, 

Levy after levy 
Till it all comes off. 

Then life-giving showers 
Kiss bud-cones anew, 

Youth returns with flowers 
Which are wet with dew. 

Sea, wind, rain and river— 
In one circle bound; 

So is life forever— 

One unending round. 

Up the hills of pleasure, 
Down to depths of pain; 

Up the steeps we measure, 
To the top again! 


54 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


FRIENDSHIP 

Seek not friends, nor seek affection, 

Let them come unsought; 

They are gifts that God is giving, 

Which cannot be bought. 

Friendship’s fruits are slow in growing 
Even near their prime; 

Honest love is sure to ripen, 

If you give it time. 

In the beat and afterbeating 
Of the loving heart, 

You can find where all progression 
Gets its primal start. 

Power gains, as gains affection, 

While we upward grow; 

For affection, like a river, 

Broadens in its flow. 

Friends are friends through one attraction, 
Each is more than I; 

For we truly love each other, 

Hardly knowing why. 

Friends are always upward climbing, 

Up from crest to crest; 

They are chosen of the chosen, 

First of all, and best. 

Friendship, true to truth, and tender, 

All things else above; 

Flowing from the fount eternal, 

Is the truest love. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


55 


More of kindness than is spoken, 
More of love than told, 

Lives in hearts divinely moulded, 
Never growing old. 

In the solemnness of silence, 

Speaking through the eye; 

Only love to love is spoken, 

For it cannot lie. 

Friends to have and hold and cherish 
From the start to end; 

You must be the source—beginning, 
You must be a friend. 

Ah, if once we know the values 
That have stood the test, 

Then in friendship deep enfolded, 

We may safely rest. 

In the truth and light celestial, 

Holy, pure and clean; 

Friendship holds the world together. 
Tied by hands unseen. 


THE BRU GM AN SI A* 

Beautiful, your pure white trumpets 
Cluster on the tree! 

Beautiful, your sweet harmonics 
Speak new notes to me! 

* Belonging to the Nicotiana and sometimes called Angel’s 
Trumpet 


56 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


Chord-charms float on gentle breezes, 
Sounding soft and clear, 

As in purity and beauty 
They fall on my ear. 

Beautiful, your silver trumpets, 
Gleaming in moonlight, 

Breathe out sweet nicotic fragrance 
On the air of night. 

Trumpets, softly serenading, 

You know nature’s art; 

You lisp love, the all-pervading, 

To each human heart. 

I’m not dreaming, it’s not seeming, 
What I hear and see; 

Silver trumpets that sway gently 
Breathe this melody. 

Very near me, as if trembling 
In this beauty-sphere, 

There is still a finer music 
Only love can hear. 


PSALM OF COURAGE 

Work and pray for courage, brother, 
Start the task with song; 

Strive until your heart beats bravely, 


AND OTHER POEMS 


57 


For the soul is strong. 

What a thing sublime and glorious— 
Never knowing fear 

Other than of God in heaven. 

Though the world may jeer. 

How serene and free the outlook, 
Though you stand alone; 

Firmer not the house foundation 
When it stands on stone: 

How serene the man contending. 

If he does not yield; 

Though a thousand demons face him 
On the battered field. 

Although oft and strongly tempted 
Do not yield your stand; 

For beneath the trials pending 
There is God’s own hand. 

Work and pray for courage, brother— 
Work with all your might, 

And through strong and fervent prayer 
You will see the light. 


THE WEAVER OF FORTUNE 

Mine is the drama of weaving, 
Mine are the actors at play; 
Mine is the web of good fortune, 
Fashioned by dreams of today; 


58 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


We are no longer to squander, 
Nor any longer to wander, 
Hopeless confusion to ponder, 
Thinking it useless to pray. 

Mine is the destiny weaving, 
Teaching good fortune to man; 
Mine is the weaving together 
Into a unified plan; 

Mine is the weaving of classes, 
Mine is the weaving of masses, 
Into one mass that surpasses 
Party perfection and clan. 


Mine is the weaving of fortune, 
Perfect in patterns and plan; 

Mine is the ancient foundation, 
Laid when creation began; 

Free from the slime of pollution, 
Far from a loud revolution, 

Only a still evolution, 

Weaving the fortunes of man. 

Here is the Key to possession, 
Here is the end of all strife; 
Here is the death of oppression, 
For in the tool there is life; 

Mine shall be nothing deceiving, 
Mine is no money receiving, 

Mine is my loom and my weaving, 
Plenty for children and wife. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


59 


Mine is my woven production, 
Mine is the perfect machine; 
Master am I of my living, 

Bounty is everywhere seen; 
Food-want and folly are fading, 
When you have plenty for trading, 
Each one the other is aiding— 
Poverty cannot be keen. 

Thus I am weaving and weaving, 
Weaving your fortune today; 
Yea, I am weaving, believing 
That in the deed is the pay; 
Each little thread I am stressing 
Follows my kindly caressing, 

For it’s receiving a blessing 
That is forever to stay. 


DEEP IS NATURE'S ART 

When at night I see the heavens, 

Orb by orb in space; 

Then I feel I know the Father, 

See Him face to face. 

When I see celestial clusters 
All aflame with stars, 

Then I see through depths of darkness 
Over open bars; 


60 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


When I see the way galactic— 
Diamond sprinkled zone; 

Then I know sublime, eternal 
Order rules alone. 

When the sky is red and rosy, 

From the rising sun; 

When I hear the song and twitter 
Of the day begun; 

When I see the great calm river 
Gliding down to sea; 

When I hear the roar of ocean 
Talk direct to me; 

Then I read the soul of nature— 

Deep in nature’s art; 

And I learn that God is beauty 
Speaking to my heart. 

As I walk among the people, 

Kin of mine by blood; 

As I look into their faces, 

Looking for the good; 

When I see the weak and weary 
Step with faltering feet; 

All with heavy burdens loaded, 
Trudging down the street; 

To my heart comes deep compassion— 
For their way I’ve trod; 

Then I learn through fellow-feeling, 
That in love is God. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


61 


One thing more is always needed— 

So it is today; 

And there’s one above all others 
That must come this way. 

Man must learn through fellow-feeling 
And supernal light, 

That the spirit makes men brothers, 

True to God and right. 

Man must learn, and live the spirit 
Into flesh and blood; 

Man through love must bring his brothers 
Into brotherhood. 


MAN AND SCIENCE 

Squarely fit the facts of science 
In the movements of the law; 

First of all, eternal order, 

Like to like must drive and draw; 

Solemn truth sits there in silence— 
One in thousands cares to know; 

Slowly sprouts the wheat of wisdom 
But the weeds are quick to grow. 

Are we gaining, are we losing, 

In this never-ending race? 

Shall we gain the man of virtue, 
Painting roses on his face? 

Science has the strength of thousands 
For each willing man in store; 


62 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


But it must be won by knowing, 

And the deed must make it more. 

Science must be vain and useless, 

If the masses do not rise; 

Far as are the stars above them, 

Like a shadow hangs the prize. 

Are we gaining, are we losing, 

In the struggle of this strife? 

Can we use the chaff and nonsense 
That we learn about this life? 

Where are we in education, 

With the tools that we should use? 

Are we now abreast in learning 

Where the thoughts of men may fuse? 

Can we use our education 
So that all may learn to lift? 

Can we raise the average level 
So that all may grasp the gift? 

Dare we count the cost of learning, 

Be it more than wars have cost? 

We are where is no retreating 
Till the battle’s won or lost. 

Man must match the worth of science, 
And the monstrous machine; 

Man is man as he excels them, 

Even to the unforseen. 

Man must rule all those who govern 
In his stead and in his place, 

Lest they yield to secret biddings 
With a mask upon the face. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


63 


Squarely fit the facts of science 
In the movements of the law; 
Always, always law and order, 
Held in high esteem and awe! 


FURROWS ROLL WITH SONG 

Glowing shines the summer sun 
O’er the forest, farm, and field; 

Glowing shines the life begun 

Near the forest’s friendly shield; 

Like a thousand suns are seen, 
Dandelions in the grass; 

Like a million stars, between, 

Beam the bluets that I pass. 

Buzzing bees are on the wing, 

Swift as eye can trace and see, 

Storing sweets the flowers bring, 

While the harvest waits for me. 

O the sun shines in my face, 

As I guide the plow in hand, 

Yet I would not change my place 
For the finest in the land! 

What a gloom the clouds can trace, 
When you hear the thunder’s threat! 

Gloomy grows the smiling face, 

When the fields are all too wet. 


64 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


What, shall I, as many men, 
Take to wailing and complain? 

Is it not far better, then, 

That I rest, and let it rain? 

Let it rain, the Lord does know, 
Though I cannot understand; 

What we need, before we sow, 
God is holding in His hand. 

Greener grows my fattened field, 
As I guide the plow along; 

Greener grows the life revealed, 
As the furrows roll with song! 


THE DAY OF THE MOTHER 

This is the day of the mother, 

This is the day of her days; 

She is the keeper of nations, 

Which by affection she sways; 
There is no shadow of turning 
In her heart’s hoping and yearning, 
Ever and ever is burning 
Love, that no debtor repays. 

Incense arising in fragrance, 

From the bright blossoms of May; 
This is the gift of the springtime, 
Given the mother today; 


AND OTHER POEMS 


65 


Honor and love are the nighest, 
When to forgetting thou diest, 
Offering all that is highest, 

Virtue’s unperishing pay. 

We are now speaking with flowers, 
Flowers in pureness of white; 

These are her emblems of honor, 
Shining with heaven-born light. 
These are the tokens revealing, 

Out of the shadows concealing, 

What the great heart-throbs of feeling 
Strangely have hidden from sight. 

Greatest of Eden here given, 
Mother-heart, mother-heart true; 
Mother-heart tenderly caring, 

Bringing God’s blessings to view. 
Greatest of Eden—and greater,— 
Herald of heaven, and, later, 
Hand-maid of Him, the Creator, 
Flower still fruiting anew. 

These are great moments for mother, 
This is her Sabbath today; 

Give her the choicest and sweetest 
From the bright blossoms of May. 
These are the blessings returning 
To her heart’s hoping and yearning, 
Unto a thousandfold earning 
Love, that no debtor can pay. 


66 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


WHENCE THESE THINGS? 

Whence the red of red birds? 

Whence their feathers’ fire? 
Was it from the sunrise, 

Or the heart’s desire? 

Whence the blue of gentians, 
Mimicking the sky? 

Did they get it gazing 
Far away and high? 

Whence the thrushes’ singing? 

Whence those wondrous notes? 
Have they come from music 
Made by other throats? 

Was it from a teacher? 

Was it ever taught? 

Was it in potentials 
In their beings wrought? 

Whence has man his longing 
To ascend the hills, 

Reaching for dominion 
Over human ills? 

Whence has man his yearning 
To obtain delights 
Far beyond his learning 
And the airy heights? 

We may know not fully 

Whence these things that are, 
But the child of glory 


AND OTHER POEMS 


67 


Reaches for the star. 

We may know not fully 
How things came to be, 
But we know, by searching, 
More and more we see. 


BROTHERS TO ALL 

Here are the ashes of roses, 

Here are the ashes of men, 
Mixed by the wind and the weather 
Deep in the mold of the glen. 
Here are the ashes of serpents, 

Here are the ashes of men, 
Peacefully sleeping together 
Under the sod of the glen. 

All that we tread on is ashes— 
Ashes of something that’s gone— 
All of the past is now pasture 
Made of its brain and its brawn. 
Here are the ashes of kingdoms— 
Gods and disgraces of men, 
Blooming in beautiful heather 
Gracing the shade of the glen. 

“Ashes to ashes,” the sentence 
Told as we go to the grave, 
Where all distinctions are leveled— 
Like are the lord and the slave. 


68 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


Here are the ashes of ages, 

Here are the ashes of men, 
Peacefully sleeping together 
Brothers at last in the glen! 

Why not then brothers while living? 

Why not then brothers today? 
Why not then peace and forgiving 
Ere that the body is clay? 

Rise from your ashes in beauty, 

Rise from your ashes, ye men, 
Loving your God and each other— 
Brothers to all in the glen! 


WASHINGTON MONUMENT 

From you, noble monument, 

Hope to all the world is sent; 

On your head the clouds of red 
Oft a hallowed luster shed, 

And the countless stars of light 
Add their rays to watch at night. 

Grand you are, O monument,— 

But the man, who came and went, 
When a million suns have set, 

When these stones are dust, shall yet 
Stand alone and shine afar, 

In the minds of men, a star! 


AND OTHER POEMS 


69 


Highest, grandest monument 
Over which our sky is bent,— 

Eight great years he led the fight 
Till he triumphed for the right; 

Eight great years he stood the test, 
Freedom’s eagle of the west! 

Proud are we, O monument, 

Of our first, great president,— 

Eight years more he served our land, 
Holding firm her helm in hand, 

Till the state had found her course 
In the people’s sovereign source. 

Pondering, O monument. 

On the growth of government,— 

As the growth of child to man 
So the growth republican; 

So we upward, higher grow, 

To the heights that blend with snow! 

From you, noble monument, 

Round this world new hope is sent; 
With the red, and white, and blue, 

Go the states, including you, 

Till the final word of peace 
Bids the crimes of war to cease! 


70 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


HOME OF MY HOME 

City and village and wildwood, 
Mountain and prairie and plain, 
Cradle and cottage of childhood, 

True to your mission remain. 

Land of my fathers and mothers. 
Land of my sisters and brothers, 
Land of good feeling for others— 
You are the home of my home! 

Varied in stations and stages, 

Home of the hopeful and free, 

You are the flower of ages, 

Sprung from the sands of the sea. 
Pilgrim and cavalier faction, 

Others of other extraction, 

Blending in unified action— 

You are the home of my home. 

You, from the lowest to highest, 
Differ but little in class— 

Neighbor to neighbor is nighest 
When he is one with the mass. 

So in my song I address you, 
Honestly honor and bless you, 

As to my bosom I press you— 

You are the home of my home! 

You must be rising and heeding, 
Where from the mountains you see 
Stars that our nation are leading, 


AND OTHER POEMS 


71 


Suns of great souls that are free; 
Fully aflame and afire, 

You must be rising still higher, 
Service through service inspire— 
Truly, the home of my home! 


SPIRIT OF SPRING 

Where’er you look the land is bright, 
The trees and shrubs in vestures gay 

Wave hands at you in rare delight 
As vernal winds around them play. 

O have you felt the buoyant joy 
That always comes along with spring? 

Companioning the girl and boy 
Awake to what the warblers sing. 

O have you felt new courage rise 
As you inbreathe the morning air, 

When bright and blue the morning skies 
Proclaim that all is sweet and fair? 

God bless the spring when all things sing, 
And earth and air are full of life; 

A thousand voices whispering 
To give us courage for the strife. 


72 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


CREST OF TIME 

As we climb life’s highest mountains 
Where the winding glaciers shine, 
Slowly, slowly, as we’re rising, 

We perceive that life’s divine. 

God is not so dim and distant 
As our feeble flesh believes; 

Faith and Hope go on before us, 

As the heart of love achieves. 

Higher than yon crests are eagles 
Circling in the air around— 

Far beyond all earthly footings, 

Still their wings support have found. 
Those who have the longing in them, 
Brought to burning in their breasts, 
They too shall outclimb the mountains, 
Going far beyond their crests. 

He Who walked the waves of water 
And Who bade the wind be still, 

He is still upon the mountains 
Showing us our Father’s will. 

Every crest of time is shining 
Where His gentle feet have trod, 

For He still the way is showing 
That shall lead men on to God. 

Yea, the crests of all the mountains 
Speak in words that are sublime, 

For they have outlived the weather 


AND OTHER POEMS 


73 


And the weatherings of time; 

But His words—they shall outlive them 
And shall build the world anew, 

Till mankind is all united 

And each heart to love is true. 


PEACH BLOOM 

O the peach trees are in blossom— 
What a sight to me they bring! 

Row on row the boughs are laden, 
And I know that now ’tis spring. 

Dainty, little, tinted flowers, 
Clustered on each up-bent bough, 

There’s no art could ever tell me 
What your rose-lips tell me now. 

Soon your colors will be gleaming 
In the glowing, red-cheeked peach; 

And an eager hand will find you 
Not too far and high to reach. 

Heat and cold go on forever, 

So, untiring, wind and rain, 

And the peach tree’s lovely blossoms 
Come to bud and bloom again. 

I will hie me to the orchard, 

Where sweet festal fragrance calls; 

Bees are hovering on each blossom 
Ere the honeyed flower falls. 


74 THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 

Then my toil will be rewarded, 
Giving me the ripened peach; 
And I stand aside, in wonder, 

At the gift within my reach. 


FLORIDIAN LULLABY 

O palm trees green, 

O palm trees gray, 

Why do your long fronds sway? 
Come whisper to my darling 
At the close of every day. 

Your drowsy swish 
As good-night wish 
Is like a song of joy, 

That comes to bless 
The happiness 

That brings to bed my boy. 

The birds at play 
In feathers gay 

Have sung their evening song 
For you, my little darling, 

That your sleep be sweet and long. 
Now lay your head 
Upon your bed 
Where nothing does annoy; 

The good Lord keeps 
Each child that sleeps, 

And so does He my boy. 


AND OTHER POEMS 
THE TOP OF THE STATE * 


75 


Towering over the uplands, 

Bare is your head of gray stone; 

Nothing obscures your far vision, 

For you are standing alone. 

Towering over all others, 

High is your head in the blue; 

Far away seen in the distance, 

People are gazing at you. 

Tower, you Badger Monadnoc, 

Over green forests of pine; 

Long you have led back the hunter, 
Standing for guidance his sign. 

Tower, you beacon of Badgers, 

As you for ages have done; 

Guiding the woodsman and cruiser, 
Holding your shield to the sun. 

Builded of trap-rock and granite, 

You of azoical birth; 

Oldest of ancient land-markings, 

You are a rib of the earth. 

Stand by the Gathering Waters, 

Wausau, beside you, your mate; 

You are the beacon of Badgers, 

You are the top of the State. 

* Rib Hill, claimed to be the highest elevation in Wisconsin. 


76 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 
TIBOUCHINA SEMIDECANDRA 


Tibouchina, Tibouchina, 

From your far Brazilian home. 

You are now a fair Floridian, 

And we’re glad that you have come. 
Once you graced the court of Pedro, 
Now you grace our gardens free; 
Gladness shall be ever with you 
While our smiling land you see. 

Come in blazing royal luster, 

Shine in purple from each cluster— 
Never failing, you pass muster 
Anywhere that you may be. 

Tibouchina, Tibouchina, 

Formed for nature’s perfect five, 
Myriad years of floral fashion 
Keep themselves in you alive. 

High you hold your five fine halberts, 
And as many bend below, 

Standing guard around your stigma 
When your purple petals blow. 

Whether sunshine, whether shower, 
You need not a guarded tower 
For your safety’s in your flower, 
While your beauty is aglow. 

Tibouchina, Tibouchina, 

You who smile before the dawn; 

You who smile when it is cloudy, 
Smile till all the clouds are gone. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


77 


You were named the Princess Flower 
In the land of Amazon, 

And in beauty’s shining bower 
Shall your fame and name live on. 
Though our days are often dreary, 
You are always glad and cheery, 
And you never, never weary 
Smiling, till our clouds are gone. 


EASTER LILY 

Easter lily pure and white, 
Fragrant messenger of light; 

From the earth thou risest up 
With rich incense in thy cup. 

Fairest flower the stars shine on, 
One short week and thou art gone; 
Lily, what thou showest me 
Is at one with purity! 

Lily, lily, thou doest bring 
Beauty to the soul of spring; 

What is held so high in thee 
Undestroyed, but sanctity? 

Go thou with the setting sun 
When thy day on earth is done; 
Come thou back, renewed in birth, 
Fairest flower of the earth. 



78 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


AN ELEMENT IS LIFTED 

Somewhere in this seed is hidden, 
Not too close to human ken, 
Knowledge, that is not forbidden 
To the seeking souls of men. 

Somewhere in this seed enfolded 
Lies a plumule not yet green, 
Soon to grow and be unfolded 
By a power all unseen. 

Something from each generation 
Of a million million years, 

That has slept in expectation 
Without dying, reappears. 

Something from each life is sifted 
Out of atoms in its cup, 

And an element is lifted 
In the bliss of growing up. 


AND OTHER POEMS 


79 


MOLES AND MEN 

Moles and men are much alike,— 

Both are digging in the dark, 

In their devious ways they strike 
Roots and rocks before their mark. 

Shovel-snouted digs the mole 
Underneath the growing grass; 

Tunneling an endless hole 

Where no one but he can pass. 

With equipment digs the man 
For his iron, coal, and salt; 

Till a bar across his plan 
Indicates that he must halt. 

Moles and men are much the same,— 
Both are blinded by the light; 

Traveling the way they came, 

They have journeyed most at night. 


80 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 


THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND 

In the sunny Southland 

Where kind hearts beat high, 

Thousand charms of beauty 
All around us lie. 

In the sunny Southland 
Close to nature’s breast, 

There’s a calm and comfort, 
Breathing peace and rest. 

In the sunny Southland 
Where so much is choice, 

Nature gave a sweetness 
To each tone of voice. 

Come, you Southern singers, 
Song is in your hearts; 

Give your souls expression 
In these finer arts. 

In the sunny Southland, 

Where so much is choice, 

There’s a touch that’s tender 
In each human voice. 

Shall this sweetness never 
Come to claim its own? 

Shall this sweetness never 
To the world be known? 

Come, you Southern singers, 
You have waited long; 

Fill your land with music, 

Bless it with your song! 
























